


baby, talk to me

by paperlighthouse



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anxiety, Attempt at Humor, Best Friends, CW: scars, Coming Out, Crushes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Discussion of Pronouns, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Character, Gender Dysphoria, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, House Spirits, Inspired by Hilda (Animation), Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Next Door Neighbors, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nonbinary Character, Pansexual Character, Sharing a Bed, Sunsets, a little bit of, and, chat fic elements, chris: for the babygays!, cw: food, for the record im queer! hopefully i'm writing all of this respectfully, gender 404 not found, long haired blond sung, queer is reclaimed!, sprinkle of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperlighthouse/pseuds/paperlighthouse
Summary: “Sungie, did you fall off your bed again?” Chan’s worried voice echoed through the walls. A tightness squeezed around Jisung’s chest, and his hands automatically began searching for the feminine colored bottles of nail polish. God, where did he—He jumped off the bed, pulling his comforter off his bed entirely, shaking the blanket like a mad man. “No, no, no, nooo.” He whined to himself, searching under his pillows even though he knew it wouldn’t be there.He swung the upper half of his body over the side of the bed just in the slightest chance the nail polish bottle hadn't fallen through the portal into Chan's space already. The floor under his bed remained bunnyingly dusty with no hidden secrets in sight. "Shit," he whimpered as the blood rushed to his head.Or, Jisung's been putting off coming out, but then he lets it slip. Literally.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Han Jisung | Han, Han Jisung | Han & Seo Changbin, Han Jisung | Han/Seo Changbin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101





	1. vanilla and peach lotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shirimikaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shirimikaze/gifts).
  * Inspired by [maybe i don't want heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200280) by [krucxa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krucxa/pseuds/krucxa). 



> today i offer you wholesome queer binsung with a hint of gender. but tomorrow, who knows! hi sofia! I know we don’t talk a lot so you might get surprised with this little gift, but I do hope you enjoy it. I wanted to thank you for a lot of things! first, for writing such great fics what the heck. your fics and stan twt acct were actually the reason I wanted to create my own and follow other writers! without your fic I wouldn’t have made other friends and have such a great (though sometimes not great...) time on stan twt. second, for being a person in the void of the internet that listen of my worries and offering lots of advice and kind words back. I Just Think You're Really Cool. um, yeah hehe. ah okay I’ve talked long enough. pls take this binsung as a token of my affection. may you grow big and strong this next year!
> 
> much love,
> 
> b
> 
> fic title inspired by Sam Kim's "Make Up"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch. 1 mood playlist:
> 
> Rain Again Tomorrow by Epik High  
> SoulMate (feat. IU) by Zico  
> Comfort Crowd by Conan Gray  
> Make Up by Sam Kim, Crush  
> Palette (Feat. G-DRAGON) by IU

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

An early Fall wind washed through the street, snaking between Jisung’s toes that hung outside his bedroom window. A squeak burst from his lips and he wrestled with the instinct to pull in his feet. The moody, lilac nail polish adorning his toes was _almost_ dry, and he was _not_ going to fuck it up this time. He had finally had time between his intro to philosophy class and helping his house spirit, Chan, make dinner, and he wasn’t about to blow the heart pounding 20 minutes it took to painstakingly swipe across each nail just to scratch the heel of his foot. The charm on his loose, braided anklet glimmered off the fading sunlight. Jisung smiled, opening the magazine he had recused from the his university.

Every week, his school restocked their shelves with new magazines and newspapers for students who had to research current events (as well as to appease the older staff who wanted something to flip through while enjoying a morning coffee). The then outdated articles would be put on a table near the service desk for anyone to take, and if any remained they would be recycled. Jisung had made a habit of scavenging the stacks of old material for personal art projects, like the minimalist collage he was currently working on. Or the collage he had made over the Summer with the glossy cut outs of unusual amount of grapefruit and potted succulents. However, this haul seemed to have a large number of candles and vegetables. He turned the magazine long ways. Maybe he could somehow cut holes in the squashes to let the candle light beam through?

A smattered clatter startled a yell from his throat as a crow tried to land on a tree branch very close to his feet. He drew his feet in by reflex and he tumbled off the bed onto the floor with a groan. The bird was far gone by the time he peeked his head over the edge of his mattress just to make sure. He checked his toe nails, dabbing at his pinky toe with the side of his thumb, just to make sure they were indeed dry (they were). The worry caught in Jisung’s chest unwound and he broke into a laugh. Hauling himself up, his back cracking not once, not twice, but three times. He bounced against his mattress leaning over to close the window, sticking his tongue out at the crow now perched and squawking from the top of the tree.

“Sungie, did you fall of your bed again?” Chan’s worried voice echoed through the walls. A tightness squeezed around Jisung’s chest, and his hands automatically began searching for the feminine colored bottles of nail polish. God, where did he—

He jumped off the bed, pulling his comforter off his bed entirely, shaking the blanket like a mad man. “No, no, no, nooo.” He whined to himself, searching under his pillows even though he knew it wouldn’t be there.

“Sungie?” Oh, right. Shit.

“Um, no! I’m okay. You don’t need to come out. A bird just startled me.” Jisung forced a laugh.

Chan’s airy laugh breathed through the walls, “Okay.” Jisung scanned the room: his desk, the windowsill, the attached bathroom counter, the walls of his book shelf. He sat on his bed, stumped. The bed frame groaned and he wiggled to let the pieces slide more solidly in place. The familiar sound of glass clattering on wood paneling followed the shake. Jisung’s blood ran cold. 

He swung the upper half of his body over the side of the bed just in the slightest chance the nail polish bottle hadn't fallen through the portal into Chan's space already. The floor under his bed remained bunnyingly dusty with no hidden secrets in sight. "Shit," he whimpered as the blood rushed to his head. 

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

All of this is happening because of IKEA, and Jisung will swear on that till the day he dies. If Jisung had been able to follow the fine print instructions, he would have been able to put his bed together correctly, and a bottle of his very, very, secret nail polish collection he hadn’t _on purpose_ told Chan about wouldn’t have fallen past the crack between his bed and the wall and into Chan’s void-y spirit space.

“Sungie—” Changbin tried to soothe as he tapped his pen to his notebook again. His neighbor had been trying to finish, aka procrastinating, his psychology homework before Jisung knocked on his window, twigs in his blonde hair, blubbering about "IKEA", "nail polish" and "Chan".

Changbin set down his pen as his best friend flopped face first onto his mattress, having gone still and apparently completely boneless. He sighed. “Just talk to him, Sung. You've been putting off talking to him about it, so carpe diem or some shit. Channie— “ 

“But he's not like you and Jeongin.” He whined, and then repeated it after Changbin gently nagged him to lift his head from The Pillow of Shame. The sheeted pillow was a helpful tissue/comfort item/shield and was specifically reserved for Jisung to cry, scream, and/or spoon when he was at Changbin’s. But right now it was damp with tears and snot, and Changbin just really wanted it away from himself, Jisung, and his sheets. Jisung wiped his nose and wet cheeks against the pillow. “He’s gonna hate me, Changbin.” He half mumbled, tucking himself into a tiny ball.

Jisung felt the bed dip as Changbin sat on the edge of the mattress, then scooted closer to place a hand on his knee. “Sungie.” He kept his voice soft, but meaningful, “Do you really think Channie could hate you? That spirit is whipped for you.” Jisung whined against his hands. blocking his face. Changbin pet the back of the younger’s neck in silence. He thumbed Jisung’s knee. “I'm not going to push you if you don't want to, but if you do, then why not now?” It was Jisung’s turn to be silent. A defeated puff of air escapes the younger’s pouted lips.

Changbin smiled softly as the boy shifted to sit too, glaring, though all the power is taken out of it because of how swollen his eyes and cheeks were. "You're gonna be alright, Sungie." Jisung whined and nudged him with his head to latch onto his side. Jisung jolted as Changbin wriggled a finger between the boy's ribs. “And it’s not like he hasn’t seen worse things~” He deviously taunted as Jisung squirmed and screeched.

“You’re one to talk,” a voice muttered flatly from under his bed causing Changbin to flush down his neck.

“Come out and talk to me like an adult, Jeongin!” Jisung laughed as Changbin weakly kicked the headboard in embarrassment

Jeongin’s slightly nasally voice continued. “First, I'm a _late teen_ in human years. Second, it’s true! No one _wants_ your nasty toenail clippings or your creepy Furby dolls. You have _scarred_ me, Seo Changbin. Do you know how creepy it is to wake up in the middle of the night, and see eyes fucking glowing at you from across the room? Do you know they fucking talk!?”

Jisung rolled onto his back, gasping for breath. Changbin blushed, a ruddy color booming across his face. “Y-yes! That’s why I hid them under my bed as a kid!” He ended with a crack in his voice.

Jeongin’s dramatic gasp echoed from under the bed, sending Jisung tumbling into Changbin’s lap as he trembled with laughter. “You put them here on purpose?? Well-“

A neon orange Furby shot out of from under Changbin’s bed, clattering across the floorboards then hitting the door. A fat, long haired, fuchsia one rolled and bumped against his dresser. They were followed by a murky, dark green one that pathetically clunked against the floor as it mockingly starred up at the ceiling. It cooed with the remains of its batteries.

“Jeongin, you can’t just— “

“Spring cleaning.”

“It’s the beginning of Fall— “

“I said, ‘spring cleaning’, Seo Changbin. Must I remind you that I have also ‘seen worst’?”

Changbin stared at the Furbys before sighing. It turned into a laugh, then a bout of giggles. Pouting, he wiggled into Jisung’s open arms. “Damn you, Jeongin,” He cursed weakly.

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

After a good half hour of cuddling, a mug of hot chocolate, and a peck on the cheek from Changbin, Jisung took out the Furby trash like a good neighbor. The three of them had debated on donating them, but one look at the matted fur had both Jisung and Jeongin gagging so they quickly turned that idea down. ("Karma is a bitch," Changbin smirked, looking fairly green himself). By the time Jisung was inside his own house he had completely forgotten about the nail polish until his front door closed behind him and he heard a faint, familiar humming.

“I’m home!” he warbled, trying to sound cool. _I’m cool_. He told himself while hanging his hoodie on the hook by the door. _Jisung. The epitome of cool. One would even say The Coolest. Is coolest a word?_

"Oh, hey, Sung!" Chan waved with a spatula before he went back to stirring around the vegetables and meat he was grilling. The spirit frowned as the younger didn't chirpily return the greeting like he normally would. "Sungie, you look like you've seen a ghost." Chan's worriedly looked him up and down out of the corner of his eyes, as he lowered the heat on the grill. "Are you alright?"

Jisung looked down. He had his shoe hanging from a finger. He threw it down. Casually. _Coolly_.

"Haha, yeah, I'm alright, was just taking my shoes off, you know, like one does." He kicked off his other shoe. It hit the wall and bounced back to land on his foot. "Fuck."

Chan hissed as a burning smell began emanating from the pan. He grabbed some pepper from the cupboard hurriedly, and sprinkled it in . "Okay" he dragged out. "By the way, some of your stuff slipped between your bed and the wall, so I put it by your bed."

Jisung froze mid-step into the kitchen.

"You really need to reassemble your bed Jisung; I'm getting tired of having to pick up everything you accidentally drop into my space, just cause you 'don't like instructions'. I can try and help you reassemble the bed if—" Chan turns holding some meat in the spatula, with a cupped palm under it. He blinked blankly at the empty kitchen. "Sung?"

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

The lilac nail polish sat on the corner of his neat bed alongside a bottle of vanilla and peach lotion he had forgotten about. With a fluttering heart he popped the lid and sniffed the creamy lotion. A wind blew across the street a little more loudly and a branch of the big persimmon tree between his and Changbin’s house knocked against the window. Jisung cracked the window. Jisung closed his eyes resting his forehead against the cool glass. The faint splash of the soapy water and scrubbing created a familiar white noise as Chan washed the grill. He would probably get called down for dinner soon, probably get roped into a movie night tucked under Chan’s side, legs hooked over his legs.

His phone _buzz buzzed_ with a notification.

  
  


changbin ♡: did you tell chan? _2:55 pm_

changbin ♡: sungie.. _2:57 pm_

changbin ♡: i'll beat his ass if he does something dumb _2:57 pm_

  
  


jisung giggled and rolled onto his stomach.

  
  


sung bun ♡: chan could wipe the floor with you _2:58 pm_

changbin ♡: i would at least try :( _2:58 pm_

sung bun ♡: mmhmmmmm _2:58 pm_

changbin ♡: if you do tell him call me or something so i can give you some chang-love _3:00 pm_

sung bun ♡: that's kinda gay dude _3:01 pm_

changbin ♡: You r kinda gay jisung _3:01 pm_

sung bun ♡: gasp no :0 _3:01 pm_

sung bun ♡: (only for you tho) _3:01 pm_

changbin ♡: . _3:03 pm_

changbin ♡: stop trying to make me gay panic bc you want to avoid talking to chan _3:03 pm_

sung bun ♡: finee _3:04 pm_

sung bun ♡: i'll call to tell you how it goes _3:04 pm_

changbin ♡: you can do it, sungie! _3:04 pm_

changbin ♡: i'll be waiting for your call ;* _3:04 pm_

  
  


"That's even more gay," Jisung muttered through the tears spurred by comfort filling his eyes. He huffed a breath up at the ceiling.

Here's the thing: every time he came out there was still that bitter, little voice in the back of his head that said " _they'll hate you_." Even when it was close friends or family. Or people who were already out.

_("I think I'm gay." Jisung gasped out as him and Changbin were mid-way through re-watching _The Princess Bride_. It was a Friday. He knew, because Changbin had just finished his first year at university and Jisung had claimed Changbin’s free time as his time, not that he protested much._

_He hadn't meant to say it, but it just airily squeaked out, like the wheels on his childhood bike. Changbin looked at him silently before his own bottom lip quivered and tears welled in his eyes. He pushed the air out of Jisung lungs under his weight, crushing the smaller into the couch. The movie played behind them, the narration of the grandfather rasping through the TV’s speakers. "Bin?" he said shakily, because though it was a hug he still didn't really know, and he just needed— he needed—_

_"I love you, Sungie. I love you so much, love you no matter what." Changbin spoke in one breath into his bony shoulder and collar bones. He squeezed him tightly till Jisung couldn't feel the tips of his fingers. It was so warm that he hadn't realized he was sobbing until Changbin started wiping his tears with his sleeve.)_

Logically, Jisung knew Chan wouldn't be repulsed or treat him any differently. Chan was one of the first people Changbin had come out as pansexual to, and that teary afternoon was one of Changbin’s best memories according to the man himself. (Jisung had called him that night, then climbed in through his window where they held hands and whispered till they fell asleep). Really the list of “evidence” was long. The spirit sent song and artist recommendations from LGBTQ+ artists to their group chat almost weekly, had went on a _long_ rant about shitty lesbian representation in Hollywood, and had respectfully switched to they/them pronouns for Jeongin when they came out to Chan as non-binary. Still, anxiety wasn't a big fan of logic. Jisung knew… _yet_. Yet.

Jisung looked down at his sock covered toes. His heart thudded against his ribs and he had to remind himself to exhale _slowly_. Pulling his knees to his chest he pulled the grey socks off by the fabric covering his toes. Dropping them on the floor he stepped in front of his mirror. He pulled at his hair self-consciously, tucking the long-ish strands behind his hair. They drooped back into his eyes. Pulling the hairband from his wrist he tied the hair back in a small ponytail. He looked at himself again, at his thin, bare arms, at his fingers shaking when they crossed over his chest in a hug.

His heart beat in his throat, blood pumping and pulsing and pumping and pulsing. “I’m going to do this.” He said to himself. The words died halfway in his throat, coming out crumpled. “I’m going to do this. I can do this.” Jisung closed his eyes, brought his arms down to his sides, breathed deeply through his nose. He looked at himself in the mirror and fought a smile.

He stepped till he was right in front of his door, bare feet a little numb from the cold. He stared at the door knob till his vision started to blur, like maybe it would turn itself. Like he could pretend he came out like he had been putting off. He could faintly hear the tune of Chan singing under his breath, something about lovers and winter. Jisung took a deep breath and opened the door.

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

"Channie?”

The call had the spirit turning and looking up the stairs where Jisung clutched the banister. The younger’s hair was pulled out of face which made it easier for Chan to see how his eyes darted around the first floor before landing again on the spirit. Jisung opened his mouth, but didn’t make any noise. He clenched his hand at his side. The soft voice of IU murmured through the kitchen and the living room. Right when he about to speak, Jisung’s voiced timidly, “Can— Can we talk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to be extra clear!! jisung does want to come out to channie he’s just been procrastinating it bc coming out can create a lot of anxiety!! changbin knows this so he’s just gently nudging him bc both of binsung know channie is supportive of them. again, this fic is written in the context that jisung and changbin have openly discussed together about ji coming out to chan.
> 
> (fyi i had this wip saved on my computer and google drive before JYP announced sungie was having some emotional trouble in social situations. people who romanticize mental illness will get slain with my sword.)
> 
> for all of my straight and cis friends, coming out is hella scary and shouldn’t be taken lightly. do NOT out people and please be respectful of your friends, family member's, and strangers decision to come out or stay in the closet with whomever. it is their story to tell not yours even if you have the best intention. please show support to your LGBTQ+ loved ones by asking them how you can best support them! I promise they’ll really appreciate it c:
> 
> thank you for coming to my ted talk.


	2. sofa cushions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan played with their joined fingers, waiting. He thumbed his calloused fingers over Jisung’s softer ones. Jisung made a noise accidentally, he sucked in a breath and it tore the breathe out of his words. “ _Channie_.” It wasn’t even a whisper, but it fueled Chan with the desire to destroy any evil and hateful thing in this world that dared so much as to touch Jisung. God, he would tear down anything to protect and love his boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to my friends triggered by anxiety: there is the beginning on an anxiety attack (short of breath, trembling, etc.) but it doesn't spiral into a full blown attack. stay safe! 
> 
> _ch. 2 mood playlist:_  
> 
> 
> Mikrokosmos by BTS  
> D (Half Moon) by Dean, Gaeko  
> LOVE IS A DOG FROM HELL (feat. Suran) by Mad Clown  
> Yanghwa BRDG by Zion.T  
> This Is Home by Cavetown  
> Sun And Moon by Sam Kim  
> Spring Day by BTS  
> Lost Stars by Adam Levine

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

Jisung stared at him. His brown eyes round, like they were asking a question, but at the same time begging for something. His mouth parted several times, and if Chan wasn’t as familiar with Jisung he would think he was just mouthing the lines to a song or poem. His crooked fingers shook, pulling at the fabric of his sweatpants before licking his lips. His mouth opened but words failed him again. Chan reached out, palm up, knocking his knuckles against the person closest to family he had in this world. Jisung tried to smile, the spirit could tell, he _really_ tried, but the muscles wouldn’t cooperate. Like he was at war with himself.

Chan played with their joined fingers, waiting. He thumbed his calloused fingers over Jisung’s softer ones. Jisung made a noise accidentally, he sucked in a breath and it tore the breathe out of his words. “ _Channie_.” It wasn’t even a whisper, but it fueled Chan with the desire to destroy any evil and hateful thing in this world that dared so much as to touch Jisung. God, he would tear down anything to protect and love his boy.

“Jisung-“ His arms moved before he could tell them to, ready to embrace, and hold, and protect. They halted in the air, fighting the force laying its hands on Jisung.

Jisung shook his head, met his hands mid-air, threading their fingers together and laying them on their knees and thighs. His hands were clammy. “No, I need to-“ He kept shaking his head, his breath picked up. His grip tightened.

“Jisung, _Jisung_ , hey.” Chan unwound one of their hands (Jisung’s burrowed itself in the pullover the spirt had hugging his frame) to rub Jisung’s back soothingly. “ _Breathe_ , Jisung. You’re okay.” Jisung made another noise, but wetter, edging on a sob. He seemed to give in a little to whatever standard he was holding himself to, falling a little into Chan. Jisung closed his eyes, breathing deeply from his belly, then out through his nose. He repeated the pattern several times.

“I’m okay.” Jisung choked out. He lifted their joined hands to rub at his teary eyes with the back of his wrist.

“Yeah, you are~” Chan teasingly affirmed, rubbed his back in circles and shook their joined hands.

Jisung coughed a laugh then hummed shortly. He seem to be thinking, democratically sorting through his thoughts with a little bit more ease. Chan squeezed their hands softly, his other hand drifting to brush the stray strands of hair that had missed their ponytail behind Jisung’s ears. Something maternal, or paternal Chan guessed, purrs in his chest. He flicks the strands, petting them until they stayed in little waves. He could feel his lips turn up at the corners in satisfaction. His restless hand stilled, fingers mid gentle stroke on the cartilage of Jisung’s ear as he looked up at him with those big, brown eyes.

His lips opened again.

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

“I’m gay.”

Chan was looking at him, he knew that, but he couldn’t match his eyes. His line of vision kept drifting to the side or staring through one half of Chan’s head. Something inside of Jisung just… fell into place. Or fell apart, he couldn’t tell. It was like he was drifting a little, quietly, like a dream. _Endorphins_ , Changbin’s voice breathed close to his ear. Chan’s hand was still in his. His own hand held Chan’s pullover in a death grip _Fight or Flight_. Jisung remembered to blink.

He looked up at Chan. The spirit’s arm was still outstretched, hand cradling the side of his head. If Jisung focused he could feel the tiny brush of Chan’s fingers on the shell of his ear. The spirit’s eyes were… full. Stony wasn’t the word, or heartbroken, or disgusted. Jisung’s heart beat sped up (or was it he just noticed it was racing). Changbin was right; Chan couldn’t look at him with anything less than love.

Jisung’s blood pounded in his head.

“An-“ Jisung cleared his throat, “And I’m, at least I think I am, gender queer?” He ended with the higher lilt of a question. “I’m not really sure.” A nervous laughter spilled from his lips.

“What are your pronouns?” Jisung starred at Chan, mouth parted open. He knew that was a normal question to be asked when a non-binary person came out, but it still caught him off guard. That was _him_. 

Chan’s lips were curled gently, encouraging, stepping out of the spotlight. The spirit’s hand brushed through Jisung’s hair. He could feel the gentle pressure as Chan trailed a hand over his ponytail. Jisung watched as his eyes deepened with fondness when their eyes met again. Chan could see him. He could _see_ him.

“’He’ and ‘they.’” He breathed.

“Interchangeably?” Chan asked, wiggled and crossed two fingers in the air.

Jisung nodded. “Unless I feel more… not…male. Then I’ll ask you to use ‘they’ and ‘them.’ Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Chan settled into the sofa cushions a little, a cheesy expression began to cloud over his face. “Do you still want me to call you ‘Jisung’?” 

“Um,” Jisung rearranged his legs, untucking them from under his body weight to cross in front of him. “I would prefer if you just call me by nicknames like ‘Sungie’ or ‘Sung’ most of the time. ‘Jisung’ is okay it just doesn’t really feel like…,” He waved his hands at himself. “Me. At least for right now.” The words fell from his mouth more easily than he had anticipated. A shadowy weight lifted itself off of his chest as Chan nodded and replied back with an ‘okay’. The spirit’s brow wrinkled a little in thought as he digested what he said.

“Backpedaling a bit,” Chan said, interrupting Jisung’s thoughts that were just about to spiral, “I’m really happy for you, for finding a label or two that you feel fit how you feel right now. And I love you so much, Sungie. And I’m…” Chan stopped, covering his face with his palms as his voice became choked up. Jisung whined in his own croaky voice, pawing at his hands so they could see one another. Jisung dabbed under the spirit’s eyes and wetly huffed as Chan started doing the same to him.

Jisung scooted himself closer till his cheek was pressed against Chan’s collarbones and chest, and he could breathe in the spirit’s scent and the residual smells of dinner. Chan’s chest expanded with a big breath and Jisung snuggled closer. Chan laughed, pulled them down onto the couch with Jisung half on top of him. He ran his hands through the dyed strands, playing with the curved shape of the ponytail. Jisung could already tell this was going to become a habit of his.

“I love you so much, and it must have been really hard.” Chan said. The question dangled gently in the air, as much of a threat as an open palm.

Jisung stared at the couch, the gentle curve of Chan’s bicep, the rise and fall of the spirit’s chest. He could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen vibrate through the furniture and the spirit himself. “It was. It still is sometimes.” Jisung traced shapes into sofa cushions. His fingers had decided to stop trembling, but they still twitched without his command. “But I have Changbin and Jeongin, they helped me feel a lot less alone. And they supported me to come out to you. Jeongin in his own way.” Chan laughed. Jisung rested his chin on Chan’s pectoral muscle. “Changbin threated to beat you up.” He said with a wide grin.

“He could have tried,” Chan huffed a playful grumble, shuffled them so he was on his side and Jisung could lay on his stomach.

“Mm.” Jisung smiled, chin in his hand. Chan watched his swaying feet behind them as they moved in the air.

“Did you paint your toes?” His legs stopped. A bolt of anxiety surged through his body. But Chan was watching him, waiting for an answer with a calm face, but a little tired. They had skipped lunch, Jisung attending a club activity and Chan went out to a café for the high speed Wi-F. Jisung felt a twinge of guilt delaying their early dinner Chan had prepared for them. _He isn’t judging you_ , Jisung had to remind himself. 

“They’re cute. It’s a pretty shade.” Chan seemed to read his mind. _I’m not judging you._ Jisung melted into the sofa and Chan himself.

“Thanks.” Chan responded with a noise that only comes out when you’re close friends when you stop caring what you sound like anymore. That and Jisung was slowly crushing his lungs.

They blinked at each other.

Jisung chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Can we eat dinner now? I didn’t really have a lunch.”

“Yessss,” Chan stretched out the word, “I didn’t want to ruin the moment, but I feel like my stomach is about to tear a hole in itself.” He rolled over the boy, wandering into the kitchen with a pep in his step. Jisung could hear him open the fridge and rustle around for the cooling food he just made. The clatter of silver being taken out of their drawer, and the clinking of glass plates on the counter.

Jisung sighed contently, curling into a ball. He was safe. And at home. And Chan was making dinner. And he loved him. And he came out. And it wasn’t that bad.

“Jisung, I’ll eat your food!” Chan uncharacteristically garbled through a mouthful of food.

His eyes shot open. “No! That’s mine!” Jisung stumbled from the couch, dashing across the wood panel flooring, and around the kitchen island to wrestle a piece of meat out of Chan’s chopsticks.

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

sung bun ♡: hey _6:11 pm_

changbin ♡: oh thank god _6:11 pm_

changbin ♡: i thought he ate you or something _6:11 pm_

sung bun ♡: ADHAKS WHAT _6:11 pm_

changbin ♡: YOU HAVEN’T TEXTED ME FOR LIKE THREE HOURS _6:12 pm_

changbin ♡: THREE _6:12 pm_

sung bun ♡: ..needy _6:12 pm_

changbin ♡: Yes i am _6:13 pm_

changbin ♡: which is why i am about to climb in threw your bedroom window _6:13 pm_

sung bun ♡: threw _6:13 pm_

changbin ♡: on second thought i can snuggle jeongin. _6:13 pm_

sung bun ♡: jeongin wouldnt willingly initiate physical touch if they was offered ten dollars _6:13 pm_

changbin ♡: is ten dollars a lot to you?? _6:14 pm_

sung bun ♡: sigh i forgot u were rich _6:14 pm_

changbin ♡: … _6:14 pm_

sung bun ♡: get ur ass in threw my window _6:14 pm_

changbin ♡: and i will now hurl my physical form through the glass covering the hole in your wooden architecture _6:16 pm_

sung bun ♡: Changbin. _6:16 pm_

changbin ♡: im coming!! :[ don’t yell at me!!! _6:16 pm_

  
  


Jisung clicked off his phone, set it on the window sill propped against the wall so it wouldn’t get stepped on. He smiled brightly in the dim lit room, the early Fall sunset slowly painted the walls of his bedroom and casted shadows of the old persimmon tree outside. He covered his face with crossed arms, his belly swirling with something sparkly and a lot like adoration. A _tap tap tap_ at the window, the shadow of a boy, or rather, man.

Jisung unlatched the window, inching it up for Changbin to slide his fingers underneath and pull it the rest of the way up. He sat there, one hand bracing his body inside, the other wrapped carefully around the tree outside. The wiry limbs of the tree bent painfully under his weight. Changbin smiled and his teeth caught the dying orange sunlight.

“Hello, boy.” Jisung said, daring to lean closer, hands resting in a flower pose, elbows on the cold window sill. He could feel the stars in his eyes bursting, his teeth peeling back his lips like orange peels, sweet. Changbin grinned wider, a laugh pushing through his lungs. A breeze blew through the street and Jisung shivered, pulling back into the home.

“Oh, are we LARPing as Wendy and Peter? Shall I whisk you away to Neverland?” Changbin spoke as he carefully climbed over Jisung’s still form. He kicked off his shoes and they tumbled over each other.

“Shut up,” Jisung laughed. He pulled up his knees under the colorful quilt to get out of Changbin’s way. The boy from next door whined and poked him (delightedly earning several giggled shouts) till Jisung lifted the blankets and let Changbin burrow under them. “Your shins are cold!” Jisung shrieked, squirmed away till his back hit the wall.

“Why are you moving away~” Changbin cooed in a high voice, though he just burrowed deeper, his face disappearing save for his dark brows and eyes. ( _And eyelashes_ , Jisung distractedly thought).

They lay in the content yet buzzing quiet, the light outside faded and the LED fairy lights Jisung had scattered tastefully over his desk and curtain rod shone brighter.

“So, how did it go?” Changbin asked.

Jisung smiled, tucked his head under a folded arm. “Good. He was really respectful; didn’t play victim or anything. He asked about my pronouns and when to use what and stuff. I don’t know why I was so worried.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You internalize that shit by learning it from other people.” Changbin reminded, voice muffled by the blankets. Jisung nodded, eyes falling to the sheets. “I’m happy that he’s supportive of you.” Changbin smiled, his eyes wrinkling around the corners.

Jisung wriggled till he was lying flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “Me too. I’m really happy. But mostly relieved. I feel so light, like I didn’t even realize I was carrying something around with me.”

Changbin scooted closer, arms wrapping around one of his own, legs sliding between his own. “Yeah, I feel you. It’s also hard to stop filtering yourself.” Jisung nodded at the comment, remembering the cold, anxious feeling that poured down his back when Chan had commented about his nail polish.

Changbin nudged Jisung’s shoulder with his nose, pulling him back to the present.

“Hm?”

“I’m needy, remember?” 

Jisung sighed dramatically, “How could I forget?”

Changbin ‘hmmp’ed and pinched his arm. “I was worried about you, you brat.”

“I know, sorry.” Jisung rubbed the hot, pinched skin.

“Then don’t do it again.” Changbin puffed out his cheeks.

Jisung smirked, “Not text you for three hours? OW! Stop pinching me!”

“No! Don’t worry me!” He seemed to want to say something else, but instead he just pursed his lips, staring up at Jisung two inches from his face. In a softer voice, sincerity imbued into each letter of the words, like a confession, “I want to help.”

Jisung shushed the whispering wings of butterflies unfurling in his stomach. He snuggled closer into Changbin’s broad chest. “I know, Binnie.” He spoke back just as quietly.

Changbin looked at him, dark eyes focused on his own brown ones, his dark lashes fluttered with a slow blink. The slope of his wide nose and cheekbones, the soft curve of his cheeks that flowed into his jaw and pointed chin. Changbin’s lips, the faint outline of hair growing back above his upper lip. The scar above his left eye from when he had first tried to climb the persimmon tree. That was Summers ago. The small scar had turned white with time, framed against his shaped eyebrows like a blossom of a tree branch. It glinted off the low light. “Jisung?” Changbin rasped. Jisung hushed him, rubbed the pad of his thumb back over the small scar till Changbin’s eyelids fluttered shut and his breath evened.

Jisung kicked the magazines off the end of his bed and they fell, covering Changbin’s shoes. He reached over him, pulled the string of his bedside lamp. The room fell into darkness save for the LEDs against his cloth curtains. The sun had disappeared, the moon not yet peeking between the clouds blanketing the violet black of the sky. Jisung shimmed under the quilt till it covered his shoulder. He shifted closer, holding his breath. His fingers reached, traced down Changbin’s lax arms till he could tangle their fingers loosely. “Changbin?” He whispered, short of breath. The man didn’t move except for the expansion of his chest and a puff of air into Jisung’s face. “Changbin,” His heart beat fast in his chest, secret pulling at his lips. _Thump thump thump thump._ “Changbin.” Jisung said again, cheeks burning, he pulled the sheets up to his own nose. If he squint he could see the shadows of his curled lashes, dark against his cheeks, the seam of his lips.

_“Changbin, I think I love you, too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit (04-07-2020): i've fallen out of love with stray kids so i won't be continuing this series, but i HAD to let y'all know what i had planned bc i love this au;;;
> 
> * jisung confesses he's always wanted to have a sleepover  
> * the gang Steps The Fuck Up and Delivers  
> * ft. ji's college's gay straight alliance members minho (aro) and hyunjin (demi-sexual) and changbin's friend felix (cis lesbian) and her girlfriend seungmin (queer)  
> * a whole flock of gay fiends  
> * (i want a flock of gay fiends)  
> * and they basically just do a bunch of cliche girl night things like painting nails, watching movies, talking about their crushes, and baking  
> * bin making (burning) cookies and a lot of screaming over converting measurements  
> * and all of them yelling along to "girl" by girl in red and "ribs" by lorde while dancing on the sofa  
> * chan just winces softly every time the floor creaks  
> * jeongin and changbin have a moment bc ji passingly said they wanted to dye their hair pink and changbin is wayyy too gay to handle that! no. nope.  
> * jisung turns into a littol cherry blossom petal and changbin is ;; enamored  
> * they fall asleep in a giant cuddle pil bc i'm a touch starved gay and projecting  
> * fin !
> 
> [ twt @lunagoogie](https://twitter.com/lunagoogie) till we meet again!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading~ if you enjoyed can u do me a favor and like/retweet [ this tweet](https://twitter.com/lunagoogie/status/1210356975386554368) it helps get my fics out there :) you can also add it to a fic rec on twt if you have one! nontheless, you can just check it out for aesthetic visuals lol. please leave a comment! they truly make my day and help me feel like i'm not screaming into the void.
> 
> also, make sure to subscribe so you can be notified with an email when this updates!
> 
> wishing you well!
> 
> [ twt @lunagoogie](https://twitter.com/lunagoogie)


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